


From a Distance

by ExplicitNature



Category: Sherlock (TV), Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Post Reichenbach, set after last episode of season 8 of Supernatural
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-31
Updated: 2013-05-31
Packaged: 2017-12-13 13:42:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/824920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ExplicitNature/pseuds/ExplicitNature
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas is no where to be found and Dean is coping as well as he can. And in between, literally, is a certain consulting detective and his blogger.</p>
            </blockquote>





	From a Distance

**Author's Note:**

> This is a belated birthday present for my friend, Ivana!! <3 I love you! I hope you like it!!! :)

After the angels fell, Castiel was devastated. His first human experience of emotion was watching his brothers fall from grace. The angels were a blur to Castiel, and at first he thought maybe this is how humans see. When he felt a small droplet roll down his cheek, he thought it to be rain. Castiel curled up on the cold ground and shut his eyes tightly. The immediate sadness dissipated somewhat as his vision became sharper. 

Even as Heaven was being torn to pieces right in front of his eyes, Dean was focused on Sam's wellbeing above all else. Castiel is.... was....an angel of the lord. He could watch his own ass for a little while. Sammy needed Dean. 

Months passed with no sign of Castiel. Dean was always worried about what Cas could be up to, but Sam was Dean's first priority. After a month, Sam was....well...Sam. No other way to put it, really. Without the constant worrying about Sam, Dean worried about Castiel frequently. 

Sam could see the emptiness in Dean. His eyes had a sense of deep sorrow that Dean himself probably couldn't understand, but Sam could. Dean missed Cas. It was obvious. And for Sam, it was painful to watch.

Dean knew he missed Cas, but Sam wasn't what most people would call "stable" yet. Dean had to tough it out for Sam, and he could. He would. 

 

-

 

Not that everything was okay...things are never 'okay' for Sam and Dean...but things weren't looking too bad. (Aside from the expulsion of the angels that is.) Sam was as close to "stable" as he could be, and nothing was stopping Dean from going after Cas. 

"Dean, it's been five months- FIVE MONTHS- since Cas flew the coop-" Dean gave Sam a look of slight disappointment at his word choice. "What I'm trying to say here is: you should go find him. Make sure he's okay." 

"Alright Sam. Why don't I just give him a call? I mean... I do have him on speed dial!" the sarcasm was heavy in Dean's voice. 

"We have to at least TRY to find him!" 

Dean turned toward the doorway-no doubt on his way to a bar- when Sam said what he's been keeping to himself for over two months.

"I can hear you." 

Dean stopped. 

"I hear you. Praying to Cas. You know he can't here you, but you do it anyway. Why?" 

Dean wanted to say something, but everything he could think of was soft and sappy and he was a grown man dammit! Dean grabbed his green jacket, got in the Impala and drove off to a small coffee shop (supposedly the best in the area). Somewhere Sam would never think to look. Somewhere even Cas would have never guessed to look.

Or so Dean thought.

...............

"I do hate America. So excruciatingly dull and..... American." 

"Sherlock, you said you wanted to take the case." 

"Yes, John, but I didn't expect our stay to be overly prolonged." 

"At least the coffee here is good." John took a chaste sip of his black coffee. 

"Yes, well, it IS supposed to be the best coffee in the state. I have still yet to understand how such a thing can be determined." Sherlock may have disliked the coffee shops marketing campaign, but their coffee was quite good. 

"Why don't you deduce someone. You love being a show-off." John smirked into his mug. 

"Why don't I deduce you?" Sherlock said jokingly. 

"No. I'm too easy. What about that man over there? The one in the trenchcoat." John pointed to the corner. "He seems mysterious." 

"Simple. He's a man of his thirties but from the state of his clothing, he is most likely emotionally "damaged". He's quite thin and is on his third cup of coffee-with no food on his plate-so he obviously doesn't care much for his own well being."

"As always, Sherlock, brilliant." 

"There's more." 

"What else is there?" 

"The man...he's....well he's...." Sherlock's voice started to waver a bit. John noticed this and let Sherlock pull himself together. "He's alone, but he's chosen to be so."

"And how can you tell?" Sherlock always explained his deductions, but not this time. And John, to be honest, was a bit worried. 

"About an hour ago, a man in a green jacket came in to grab a cup of coffee. The man in the trench coat was careful not to be noticed by the man in the green jacket. Even though he kept his distance, he never took his eyes off of the man in green. The man in the trenchcoat...dare I say...loves the man, but knows he must keep his distance. Whether it be for their emotional or physical wellbeing."

"I still don't understand how you understood that from just his expression."

"I didn't," Sherlock said in a neutral, but yet sad, tone. 

"Then how-" John snapped his mouth shut and chose his next words carefully. "Sherlock. That was four years ago. You know that I forgive you and I understand why you did what you did." 

"That doesn't make up for all the pain I've caused you." 

"Sherlock, you saved me. And I will always be grateful." 

"Yes, John. And by the way,"Sherlock squeezed John's hand from under the table,"Happy anniversary."

"It's nice to have you back, Sherlock." John couldn't help but smile at the detective as they payed for their coffee and left. 

~end~


End file.
